Star Wars: Clone Wars: Silk Strands
by Electricboa
Summary: The Core has become apathetic to the plight of the Outter Rim worlds, but that will soon change. After all, how can they ignore a war when they get a front row seat to the action? Canon compliant.
1. Framework

**Senate Rotunda, Coruscant; 21 BBY**

"The Chair recognizes the senator for the sovereign system of Naboo."

The consistent and constant lighting of the chamber served to lull the attendees into a state where the passage of the day outside was minimal to the work they were doing, and this was especially this time, as the session had carried over long into the night. Before the civil war that had been sparked on Geonosis, such a long assembly was unheard of, as the previous body of government was loath to work harder than absolutely necessary to keep their own positions. But that had all changed when the war started, now colloquially dubbed the 'Clone Wars' by political commentators. There was nothing quite like a conflict to keep government bureaucracy meshing like a well-oiled machine, an ironic turn of phrase considering the soldiers utilized by the Separatists in the war.

The repulsorpod designated to the Naboo system dethatched itself from the staggered inner curve of the massive spherical evocation chamber. Gliding silently before the Chancellor's podium, Senator Amidala addressed the Senate.

"Honored representatives of the Senate, we find ourselves in the most poignant of circumstances any government can find itself. We are embroiled in a conflict that can have no victory, only devastation," she exclaimed as she turned to take in the entire congregation, "We cannot, as the defenders of free democracy, be forced to enforce our laws by fiat. Only though cooperation can the Galaxy begin to heal, and we must be the arbitrators of that lasting peace, as we inadvertently played a role in this by past inaction that has lead to the dissatisfaction found in the systems the Confederacy is drawing from."

As with the vast majority of political speeches, this was greeted by an almost schizophrenic reaction. Proponents of change, spearheaded by Senators Mon Mothma and Bail Organa would applaud, while those who had divergent loyalties, even a financial incentive for the war, such as Lott Dod and other Corporate-aligned Senators would voice their restrained, lest they be investigated for said conflicts on interest, condemnation. The majority, though, merely waited, unwillingly to be on record for or against something before they could weigh the value such a position could have on their own political career.

"The Bill before us, Resolution 8835, will not help us defuse the situation we find ourselves in. Expanding the mandate of the Coruscant Guard to include other Core Worlds will only serve to antagonize those we wish to make peace with." Amidala continued, "Further militarization of Republic worlds only exacerbate the situation. Please consider that this vote will have a ripple effect in the war, making a conclusion to hostilities more difficult to achieve."

Her allotted time over, the delegation pod returned to its nesting spot in the upper echelon of the chamber. When no one else deigned to take the floor, the vote was taken. At the end, the Senate had chosen to expand the authority of the Coruscant Guard to encompass the Core, though the vote ended far closer than the pundits had expected. Political analysis would later credit Amidala for swaying some of the centrists to side against the resolution.

With the business of the day concluded, the Chancellor gestured to the Vice Chair to end the session, which the Chagrain quickly did. Despite the late hour, the halls of the Senate would be crowded as Senators, aides, and other functionaries finished up their work and made their way home for what was left of the night.

* * *

Mas Amedda was a worrier. That was not to say he couldn't control himself, or hide his outward appearance from displaying such emotions, but he was honest enough with himself to acknowledge when something caused him stress. Stress was a constant now, what with the war and his high position, that was standard now, but he found it immensely more tenuous when he was alone with Palpatine. The Chancellor had not voiced an opinion during the actual session, though that wasn't uncommon, he already had advocates to do that for him, anonymously. The Pressure Amedda felt now came solely from the silence in the Chancellor's private office. All alone, there was little need to keep up the facade, so the silence was more of volition than necessity.

The Chancellor left Amedda's side upon entering the elaborate office and calmly slipped into his chair, the rustle of fabric against upholstery sounded intolerably loud in comparison to the oppressive hush in the room. Amedda wasn't even sure why Palpatine was reacting like this, he had, after all, gotten what he wanted. The Coruscant Guard would soon be on every Core world, subtly enforcing the idea that the Republic would no longer tolerate dissention. Yet, he felt the need to ask slowly overpower the fear of actually getting an answer.

"My lord," Amedda began, "Are you not pleased with the vote?"

Palpatine had steepled his fingers on the desk, bony fingers creating a lattice of shadows on the surface of the desk, oddly resembling a silken arachnid web. His wintry blue eyes, so understanding outside the office, latched onto Amedda's own. The Chancellor collapsed the roof of digits as he interlaced his finger and leaned back.

"It would seem," Palpatine drawled, "That some members of the Senate have begun to doubt the dedication of the Separatists to their cause, even to the point in deluding themselves to the prospect of an expedient end of hostilities."

The chair swiveled around, away from Amedda, to look out upon the gloomy cityscape of Coruscant. While it was clearly night, the sky was irrevocably lit by an untold number of lights. Traffic lanes were ropes of luminosity and the buildings themselves were towers of illumination. Darkness, at least in a physical sense, would never fall of the galactic capital. That wasn't to say that other forms of darkness didn't exist there, they just didn't require the physical realm to operate, and as the singularity of said phenomenon, Palpatine decided that it was time for the Core to be shaken from their complacency. It was time to tinge their disinterest with the war with some healthy fear and what better way to do that than with direct contact?

"Leave me, I have a call to make"

Amedda didn't need to be told twice, he fled the suddenly chilly office. One did not last long in such positions by failing to jump when ordered.

* * *

**Providence-class Destroyer, **_**Resplendent**_**; 21 BBY**

Count Dooku was old. He could feel it in his bones, long removed from his youthful days as a Jedi they were now aged. True, he wore his 81 years better than most. He could still single-handedly defeat the best fighters in the galaxy, though now that would be more due to experience and technique than raw power, but of what use was physical power when it was so easily turned back on its source? No, Dooku was quite happy with his prowess on both the mystical and physical arenas, but he couldn't deny his age. It was rarely something he thought about, but when he did it was usually when he was kneeled before his master.

Darth Sidious seemed to have the innate ability to siphon off strength, even when it was clearly only a psychological effect. Even being an apprentice, the Count knew that. While it was possible to touch someone at great distances, something easily within the grasp of the Dark Lord, it was still an unnecessary expense of energy, and one Dooku would have felt regardless. No, Dooku fully realized that the effect was one purely in his mind, but that did little to help, as knowing what the problem is and knowing how to fix is are two distinctly different things.

Still listening as his master outlined the events of the Senate session, Dooku briefly turned his thoughts to the visage before him. Though, on further thought 'visage' may not be entirely appropriate, as it implied seeing something. His master only ever appeared clad in a voluminous cloak, presumably black, though one could never tell with holograms. With everything saturated in cobalt tones, it rendered aesthetics a rather moot point. Face half hidden by a raised hood, the only skin visible was that lower half, as his hands were tucked inside the cloak's substantial sleeves. It was simple and understated, but belied the true being underneath. It was a living embodiment of one of Dooku's first lessons under the tutelage of his master: _What is done in secret has great power_. As Sidious was, perhaps, the most powerful being in the galaxy, controlling two governments like marionettes, secrecy came in the form of anonymity.

"It is time to bring the reality of the situation home to the Republic, my friend, complacency cannot be condoned." Sidious concluded, gravelly voice given a tin-like quality from the speakers.

"What would you have us do, my lord?" Dooku asked, the Dark Lord never contacted him without an agenda.

"Distance breeds apathy, so we shall ensure that even the most secure is anything but." Sidious' contemptuous voice intoned as Dooku noticed an incoming data file pulsing green, "I am sending you various hyperspace routes you will utilize to that effect."

"You want a campaign against the Core?" Dooku scanned through the incoming files and was somewhat surprised, it was an incredibly aggressive move, and nigh impossible without the hyperlane routes provided.

Sidious' perpetual frown twitched into a facsimile of a sneer, "I want conflict, Count. Conflict to spread the Jedi reserves thin. Conflict to draw the Army into more and more battles. Conflict to impress upon the Republic that this is only the beginning of the war."

"Yes, my master, it will be done." Dooku punctuated with a deeper bow, strained joints silently creaking with the effort.

"Excellent, keep me appraised." Sidious curtly replied before severing the connection, leaving Dooku alone in his chambers aboard the warship.

Dooku rose slowly, still drained from his conversation, though his strength gradually returned. He studied the files provided by his master. An attack on the Core was unprecedented, but that meant nothing to Sidious, only success.

* * *

**Chancellor's Private Office, Coruscant; 21 BBY**

Palpatine cut the transmission and stared at the compact holoprojector. It was a work of art, literally crafted by the artisans of the Xi Char. When he had approached the cult of perfectionists years before for the Mechno-Chair Gunray currently possessed, Sidious couldn't help but indulge his artistic sensibilities. He had always liked antiques, but it was a rare treat to have something so aesthetically pleasing be functional and so often used. The lineage of the device, however, was not the subject of Palpatine's musings. Instead he thought of the person so recently displayed over it.

Dooku was old and feeble. His fire had long since burned out to a low ember, complacent in his new position and what the future held for him. _Fool_, Sidious seethed. Dooku couldn't even divine the obvious parallels in their conversation moments ago. _Complacency cannot be condoned, indeed it _will_ not be_. But this wasn't the time to edify his ageing apprentice, no. Dooku was old and feeble, yes, but still useful.

Palpatine rose from his, for all intents and purposes, throne and slipped out of his cloak and telekinetically sent it into a hidden recess at the end of his office, followed by the ornate holoprojector. A monster he may have been, but he was neat. A place for everything and everything in its place.

Once again in only his robes of office, he walked the expanse of the room to his favorite works of art. Two of the Four Sages of Dwartii graced his inner office, with the latter two as guardians of the entrance. The lighting had been dimmed to the point where everything was cast in crimson from the floor. Sidious made his way to the Neuranium figurine of Sistros. Of all the statues, this held the most sentimentality for him.

Palpatine delicately traced a bony finger along the bronzium finish. _Soon_, he thought to the object nestled inside the effigy's hollowed out core. It was as close to a friend as he had, so long removed now that he only remembered it from sheer willpower. Soon, indeed, but first he would obliterate the Republic and exterminate the Jedi. Sidious didn't care if he razed every planet from Coruscant to Zigoola, he would burn the hope from every denizen of every planet. He would sit in his office and feel the light leave the universe as each Jedi met their inevitable fate, betrayal by their own subordinates. Every exquisite scream, every shattered heart, every bereavement would sow the seeds of darkness.

This new offensive is just a stepping stone to the horror that would come to define the so-called 'Clone Wars,' not some last ditched strive to democracy. The Confederacy would die far short of what they wanted to accomplish, but they would succeed in destroying the Republic. When Palpatine was finished he would rule on high, far higher than Chancellor of the Republic or as the de facto head of the Confederacy. He would rule the galaxy as _Emperor_. It was already decided, preordained by the darkness. Everything leading up to it a farce played out to appease the spectators. _The Republic will fall, I have foreseen it_.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well, I've never really written something I intended to publish until now, and even with this I'm not really sure how far I'll go. A friend of mine, Larsdalen, came to me a few days ago wanting to write a story about Operation Durge's Lance. For those of you who don't know (by which I probably mean most), it was a series of attacks carried out by the Confederacy of Independent Systems against the Core worlds of the Galactic Republic during the Clone Wars. For the most part, there really isn't all that much written directly about it, and he asked me to fill in some of the meat of the stories.

I'm not particularly good with action, which is terribly ironic considering this is meant to follow various battles (i.e. _action_). But I did rather enjoy writing this, which could pretty easily turn into a vignette. Full disclosure: I am a pretty big huge Palpatine/Sidious fan, so if I do continue, expect him to show up. For people who've read some of the books, you'll notice I make a lot of allusions to them and took a lot of inspiration from them for the personalities of the characters as this is supposed to be able to fit in with canon. For this part, it mostly comes from _Yoda: Dark Rendezvous_ by Sean Stewart, _Clone Wars: Wild Space_ by Karen Miller, _Labyrinth of Evil_ by James Luceno, and _Revenge of the Sith_ by Matthew Stover. I even took a couple lines directly out of them they fit so well.

Of course, I should also say that I don't own any of the characters, locations, anything really. I just get to play with them. Dance puppets, dance! Muahahaha!


	2. Drums of War

**Jelwick, Handooine; 21 BBY**

When one fought in a war, the weather is rarely forgiving. Necessity outweighed reprieve in every aspect of it. Jedi General Jorian Pax was a hardliner. He simply had been born to lead soldiers, the quintessential Jedi Guardian. Natural leaders were rare, but unrivaled on the battlefield. Pax had been assigned to protect this vital staging ground for the Republic for this reason. The Council had been confident that its protection was assured. In short, they were wrong.

The skeletal ships had arrived in-system just as the first rays of the primary star shone down on the capital city. They were chasing the Republic forces retreating from Jabiim. The Confederacy had all but routed the Republic there and many were presumed dead or lost. In this case, should any under the latter category be found by the Separatists, they soon joined the former. A determined group of clones and Padawans had been able to hold off the mechanical forces at Cobalt Station long enough to grant the rest of the Republic forces a hasty retreat. The Confederacy had been prepared and followed the fleeing ships back to their staging area, not much of a secret when detailed plans had been provided to Count Dooku from his nebulous master.

Spindly Recusant destroyers had seemed naught but needles against the backdrop of the sun. The Munificent frigates, however, were the backbone of the mechanical navy and combined they struck the wounded Republic destroyers and transports like razors . Flanked by a pair of Lucrehulk battleships, a lone Providence destroyer, designated Invisible Hand, served as the flotilla's flagship. In less than an hour, the orbital battle was over. The wreckage of former Star Destroyers drifted listlessly, destined to become derelict debris for scrap merchants to swarm like vultures after the fighting was resolved, a few brave (or perhaps foolish) ones had started making their runs before the Separatist ships turned to the planet. The invasion had begun.

C-9979 landing craft descended on the helpless planet like moths. The Republic had enough ground forces to put up a struggle, but even a novice tactician knew that there was little hope of repelling the droid army. General Pax knew this, but that was what made him a natural leader of soldiers. He knew that you had to fight for what you believed in, even when you knew it wouldn't change anything. He would fight, and die, if necessary to slow the rot the Separatists wanted to infect into the Republic.

**Providence-class Destroyer, **_**Invisible Hand**_**, Above Handooine; 21 BBY**

General Grievous was, in many ways, a machine. Something that he would deny to his last mechanical breath, but it was true. His former life as Qymaen Jai Sheeial was more like a dream than his past. He had become so much more than that, he had chosen a life of power. Well, not exactly _chosen_ per se. To imply he elected to undergo his metamorphosis into the feared General Grievous implied he actually had a choice in the matter, he did not. He, like so many in the war, was just another puppet unaware of just how deftly he had been strung along. If he ever found out, he'd very likely go down trying to slaughter the very Separatist leaders he served and protected.

The planet Kalee had been at war, an ongoing theme in the galaxy, with Huk. The two sentient species ravaged each other, but the Kaleesh had gotten the upper hand in the end and drove the Huk back to their own world and began to conqueror it. The Huk, however, were not ones to accept defeat. They petitioned the Republic, and by extension, the Jedi to intervene. The Kaleesh were quickly driven back to their own world and abandoned. During that war, after the loss of his true love, Qymaen had taken up the name Grievous in his hatred of the Huk.

After the war, Grievous was forced to become an enforcer with the InterGalactic Banking Clan to support his people, after all there were always those who didn't want to pay, so why not send such a talented fighter to break a few legs, literally? Grievous secretly despised his glorified grunt work, but the needs of his people came first. By this point, unknown to the Kaleesh warrior, he had gotten the attention of Darth Sidious, and by extension, Count Dooku. The latter, in secret, was instrumental in goading the Huk to vandalize hallowed Kaleesh committal grounds. An enraged Grievous rushed back to resume the war with the Huk, but would never make it in one piece.

The Chairman of the InterGalactic Banking Clan, San Hill, the Archduke of Geonosis, Poggle the Lesser, and Count Dooku had decided that the time had come to amend Grievous' position, both figuratively and physically. An ion bomb was planted on Grievous' shuttle, _Martyr_, he never made it off the planet. That wasn't to say he died, no, the Kaleesh warlord had an uncanny knack for survival, he had only superficial injuries from the crash, easily repaired. The Count decided that he needed to inflict his own tender mercies on the future cyborg, and, my, what fatal complications there were moving him to a trauma care unit. It was practically negligent; a prospective few months in a Bacta tank had been turned into multiple amputations, lacerated lungs, and a mutilated torso, but nothing too fatal. Dooku was pleased with the results. And so Dooku and Hill visited the maimed Kaleesh, very concerned with his continued health. They spoke of Jedi plots to prevent him from helping his planet and innocently mentioned marvelous techniques pioneered by the Geonosians in the field of cybernetics. Fueled by anger, and hate, and pain, the crippled warlord signed away his soul for the chance at revenge on those who wronged him.

On Geonosis, Grievous was rebuilt, both physically and mentally. His body became a remnant of ancient Krath war droids, his face a stylized Kaleesh skull, his 'skin' the off-white color of bone. He was molded into the perfect machine with two goals: to kill Jedi and inspire dread in his enemies. The violations didn't stop at the mere flesh, they altered his mind. He had never agreed to it, but Dooku didn't care, his wishes ceased to matter the second Grievous became useful to his master. Large portions of his memory were altered or completely erased. Centers of his brain that controlled rage were distorted to give him a temper he had never previously possessed and knowledge of lightsaber techniques were directly implanted into his cortex. He had ceased to be merely Grievous, but had truly become General Grievous, Supreme Commander of the Droid Armies of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

Now Grievous didn't know how he truly came to be as he was. His altered memories clearly told him he became what he was because he wanted revenge against the Jedi for their actions against Kaleesh. Grievous could no longer remember why he had taken the name he had. When he thought about it, which was rare, he felt a loss he couldn't explain. In fact, the cyborg general no longer had a true range of emotions. There was no room in a droid commander for such excesses like love or sadness, no place for weaknesses like fear and pain, no need for outdated inclinations toward honor or nobility, there was only service to his masters. Grievous didn't dream, the empty periods of stillness between consciousness were like slices of death to the former Kaleesh warlord. Grievous was, in many ways, a machine, and his Sith masters couldn't have been happier.

The over-cloak rustled as the General turned to one his is personal MagnaGuards, "Prepare a landing craft, we're going to hunt Jedi."

Killing Jedi always helped, there was something instinctual about it. It drove away the emptiness of inaction. It made the nothingness his life had become have meaning in the few seconds he watched the light leave their eyes, there was nothing else like it. It was an addiction that he would now chase across the void for. His life was now defined by the few seconds of living as others died. That was why he collected them, the lightsabers. They were his life made manifest. A corporal existence in metallic form. Maybe if he collected enough he'd feel again, maybe if he collected them all he would gain back what he lost . . . Grievous mentally shook his head, melancholy had no place for a droid commander, either, and he had a planet to level.

**Jelwick, Handooine; 21 BBY**

The battle was not a short one, it need not be when one side can win by attrition. Droids were the perfect choice for war, if you could afford them. True, they were not nearly effective as a clone trooper on a one-on-one basis, but the Confederacy had an absolute numbers advantage. Hailfire siege tanks raced through the mass line of lowly B1 battle droids raining fire and death on the Republic walkers. Clones scattered, their pearl-white armor marred with grime and ash. This was their last stand. They were, to use the appropriate cliché, surrounded.

General Pax was fatigued and wounded. The long battle had taken its toll, after all one could only deflect so many blaster bolts. The injury came from an EG assassin droid, newly minted and shipped to the front lines specifically to deal with Jedi. Pax had prevailed, but carried a dozen lacerations from the encounter. Far from his prime, he was ready to fall defending his troopers. The sound of duranium LX-44 leg crushing a downed clone's helmet sunk his heart; he turned.

At well over two meters, the droid commander towered over all but the most gargantuan machines in his army. Pale cape parted, both six-clawed hands gripped a lightsaber, as of yet unlit. Yellow reptilian eyes narrowed to unfathomable slits as the General turned in a ready stance. "Your army is lost, Jedi." Grievous growled, a low guttural sound made tinny by the voice modulator, "Prepare yourself, for the only escape left to you is the afterlife."

The right blade extended a vibrant jade while the left an azure. Dichromatic highlights lit the death's head mask as Pax tightened his grip on his own emerald saber. The clash started in a flash of pseudo-motion as Grievous lunged forward and rolled. The clawed leg still gripping the crushed helmet whiplashed over taking the deceased clone with it. Had the Republic soldier still been alive the wet snap of the neck would have meant instant death and decapitation. The ad hoc projectile sailed at Master Pax, who had fallen back in a defensive posture from Grievous' initial movement. He only realized what the vicious cyborg had done after neatly slicking it in two, revulsion temporarily washing over him.

The roll carried Grievous much closer to his prey, launching himself off the ground to come at Pax from a downward angle. The Jedi caught both blades on his own and twisted them to the side before stepping under Grievous' guard. Before he could lance through the chest plates, he felt himself yanked aggressively to the side as one of the droid General's legs latched onto his ankle. With the spin provided by the deflection, Grievous whirled, once again to a stop on Pax's defensive blade.

"You're tired, Jedi," Grievous sneered, "Why fight the inevitable?"

Pax ignored the verbal jab, knowing that his fatigue was rapidly catching up to him. Concentrating through the Force, he pushed Grievous back a meter, only to have the General vault upwards. The attack came identical to the previous one, and so Pax thought nothing of reacting the same, not noting that one of Grievous' arms had split and dropped to his cloak. The Jedi caught the droid General's two blades just like before, leaving no defense for the third blade suddenly piercing though his sternum. The newly ignited blade buried hilt deep in his chest left Pax numb.

Grievous' reptilian pupils dilated as they caught the human's own hazel ones. After a second of mutual pause, the latter's began to glaze over. Grievous felt his pulse race, for as long as he stood there, now propping up the corpse he could feel alive. His scarred mind stitched together and he was _free_-until he was interrupted.

The OOM-series command droid in charge of this area of the battlefield, Grievous never did bother learning their designations, after all they were only droids, stepped up moments after the killing blow and said, "Count Dooku demands you presence."

His split second of nirvana shattered, Grievous' first thought were of pure anger. _How dare that soft human dictate to me_-followed by a massive migraine as his implants sought raw retribution for his mutinous thoughts about his _Master_. Body on automatic now, he dropped the dead Jedi and kneeled as a life sized replica of the aristocratic Count shimmered into focus.

"I understand the assault was successful, General," Dooku droned, as if bored from the conversation he himself initiated, "congratulations."

Grievous, now thoroughly chastised from his earlier indiscretion, bowed deeply, an act made more dramatic by his stooped posture.

"However, I require your presence for a new offensive we shall be launching in the coming weeks. Leave your droid commanders to finish up the subjugation there and return to your command ship. I will contact you there with further details."

"Yes, my lord."

The hologram vanished, leaving the General to order the OOM commander to secure the area. Before returning to his transport, Grievous crouched beside the Jedi corpse and clutched the now dirt encrusted lightsaber pommel. Weighing the sacred object in one claw, he felt mildly uneasy with it. It represented not only an interrupted kill, but also his own treasonous thoughts. Grievous resolved that this would become a keep sake only, not one of the sabers he readily utilized, that honor were for "happy" memories. Walking away from the carnage, the former Kaleesh warlord wasn't sure what disturbed him more: the flash of anger he felt for the disruption or the fact that he so readily suppressed the feeling. _It doesn't matter_, his broken mind told him, _all you need worry about is service to your _Master.

**Chancellor's Office, Coruscant; 21 BBY**

Seated across from the Caliph of Aydrau V, Palpatine felt as if his face was about to crack. On general principle, he hated to smile, though he was forced to do so often, but even he could only take so much. Admittedly, Palpatine had started the meeting rather bored, but that was almost a constant when dealing with these petty planetary leaders vying for attention. By the end of the first hour, His Illustriousness had been added to _The List_, a mental catalog of every being who slighted Palpatine and would be among the first to experience retribution under his eventual Empire.

Caliph Denic Juarez, Palpatine quickly found out, had the unwavering ability to bring any subject matter back to its affect on his planet's production of Guarim berries, a sweet pinkish fruit utilized in harvest festivals. At first, this amused Sidious and he decided to see just how pervasive this ability was, but now he was just disturbed by it; it was unnatural. The Jedi? What wonderful work their AgriCorps had done to yearly crop yield. The War? Demand for Guarim had dropped off in recent months due to it. A Venator-class Star Destroyer? The executive launch of the first ship in that line had celebrated with Guarim. The Sith? Did you know that under previous Sith-controlled governments, they had banned the berry? Sidious certainly hadn't, and he was an expert on Sith lore, but he sympathized with those ancient Sith. By the end of the second hour, Sidious resolved to have Dooku _take care_ of His Illustriousness personally, no longer able to wait out the end of the war for vengeance.

It wasn't just the grating conversation that bothered Palpatine. Thanks to Dooku's constant updates, he knew that Aydrau V had already pledged their support to the Confederacy, so this entire waste of time was exactly that. Of course, the Chancellor wasn't supposed to have such knowledge, so when the Caliph had requested to speak with Palpatine personally, he had acquiesced, if reluctantly. By the end of the third hour, however, Sidious was seriously weighing the pros and cons of murdering the Caliph himself. _It would be so easy_, his own silky voice whispered, _an aneurysm, no one would have to know_. For a moment, he pictured the reaction he'd get to conjuring a storm of lightning and electric rage to flatten the source of his wrath, and a genuine smile broke through his facade. But no, he needed Juarez to ensure that Aydrau V was firmly in the Separatist camp. Once firmly entrenched to the Confederacy, then he'd have Dooku design a special torment for the doomed ruler. Right now, however, Sidious realized it was time to conclude this travesty of an appointment before he started to listen to that voice in his head.

"As fascinating as the increased volume of Guarim storage over the last decade is, Your Illustriousness, I must beg your forgiveness," Palpatine said as he rose, interrupting the monologue Juarez had been on for the past . . . seven minutes and forty-eight seconds on said subject, "but I do have a rather vital meeting I must attend presently."

Juarez's primary and secondary mouths grinned and nodded judiciously, "Of course, Chancellor, I will take your proposal back to Aydrau V for final consideration."

The late Caliph, or so Palpatine had already begun thinking of him, rose and nearly made it out of the office before rapidly turning and rushing back to the Chancellor. Palpatine had to consciously will himself not to twitch as he felt the static around his hands tingle, begging to unleash their full electric potential.

"It almost escaped my mind, Excellency, this," he said indicating to an innocuously wrapped package that his aide had been holding the entire four-and-a-half hour conference, "is a gift from the people of Aydrau V."

Palpatine graciously accepted the box, nearly two feet tall by one foot around the base. The Caliph didn't wait around for the unveiling, but left the Chancellor alone with his newly acquired gift. Setting the box on his desk, he unwrapped it, sensing no danger from within. Once it had been fully revealed, Sidious tried, and failed, to suppress the convulse of his eye. Standing on his desk, in all the glory of the midday sun was a bronzium sculpture, nearly as tall as the box had been, of Denic Juarez himself. The statuette's hands formed a rather deep bowl indentation filled with Guarim berries.

Sidious stood there for a full five seconds and took in the gaudy and audacious gift . . . and snapped. The pent up fury found an outlet and flowed like molten lava. His hands curled into bone-white fists; the bronzium bust shattered and the berries boiled in their casings. In only a fraction of a second, there was nothing left larger than a grain of sand. Debris strew across his office and the scalding juice vainly tried to stain the much deeper red-tinged carpet.

Palpatine let out a shuddering breath before calmly striding up to the other side of his desk and summoning Mas Amedda. It was indeed true he had another meeting on the docket, though this one was not on the official register. The Chagrain sycophant hurried in just as Palpatine was ready to move to his private office.

"Have someone clean this up, would you?" Palpatine practically hummed , "I'm afraid there was a little accident with the Caliph's gift."

The Vice Chair didn't even have the time to affirm the order before he was left alone trying to figure out why the ruler of Aydrau V had given the Chancellor of the Republic sand and cooked fruit and why said items were scattered about the room. _It must be a cultural proclivity_, he decided on the sand, but had no rational explanation for the current location of it strewn about. He didn't think too deeply before calling the custodial staff.

Once barricaded in his private sanctuary, at least for the moment, Sidious donned his usual attire and contacted his erstwhile Jedi apprentice.

**Providence-class Destroyer, **_**Resplendent**_**; 21 BBY**

Count Dooku, rarely known by his alter-ego Darth Tyranus, often found strategy rather tedious. He was, at heart, a politician. True, his time as a Jedi had given him the considered expertise to coordinate a galactic war, much like the one he was currently in, but in reality he was a glorified middleman. His pride would never allow himself to admit such, but it was always in the back of his mind. The overall war directive always came from his master, Sidious could be quite the micromanager when he wanted to be, and Grievous was often the commander on-scene to oversee the battles. There were many other Separatist commanders, yes, but no one better to lead this current campaign, though it would be prudent to cast some obscurity on the situation. Dooku had something in mind for that, actually.

The transmission was expected well over an hour ago, but neither Dooku nor Grievous were brazen enough to leave their current positions. _At least he_, Dooku thought miserably,_ doesn't need to worry about leg fatigue_. Already cringing at the expected surge of weakness his master always brought, to go into the conference exhausted would mean a rather painful night for the Count. Just as Dooku had decided to relieve himself by taking his chair, the ghostly image of his master flickered above the secondary holoprojector, relayed directly to Grievous in a conference-style. Sidious immediately turned to face the cyborg.

"Report, General, what news from Handooine?" Sidious' rasping voice commanded without explanation for his late arrival, not that anyone dared question him about it.

Grievous bowed deeply, much like he had done earlier when Dooku had contacted him and relayed a summary of the damage. A resounding victory, what few Republic ships escaped could only spread news of the devastation.

"And General Pax?" Sidious asked in an exacting tone, Jedi deaths were always a priority for the Sith.

"Slain, by my hand, Lord Sidious"

"And you, Count, have you any progress on the project I gave you?" The Dark Lord abruptly shifted the conversation without preamble. For both Grievous and Dooku this rapidly shifting style of conversation had taken some time to take in stride.

"As it so happens, my lord, we have preliminary targets in mind, pending your approval of course."

Dooku sent the half dozen battle plans he and Grievous had devised over the past few days along with a tentative title for the operation: Durge's Lance. Sidious, being rather proficient in tactical planning himself, but mostly from the overall perspective of the war, studied the planet files. Excellent targets: Duro, Humbarine, and . . . Alderaan, how delightful. Sidious briefly relished the prospect of Senator Organa losing his physically, if not emotionally, estranged wife. Would it break him? _I'll have Grievous make it a special priority _, he thought. There was one thing that baffled him, the name.

"And why, pray tell, have you elected to title this campaign thusly?" Sidious inquired. He knew of the Gen'Dai, a useful piece, one that proved very durable, but he was still recovering from his encounter on Trenchant station, not nearly improved enough to spearhead this movement at the present time. Dooku had better not be planning to delay for the bounty hunter.

Dooku shrugged, "After the operations Durge took part in before, especially Ohma-D'un, the Republic will plan accordingly to counter his tactics. In reality, Grievous will command the maneuver and have the advantage of surprise."

Sidious nodded in understanding and tacit agreement, _what is done in secret has great power_, the words echoed in his mind. There was one other issue. "Corellia," Sidious said tersely, "is not to be touched."

Both the Count and General started, they had rather wanted to cripple the shipyards there, forcing the Republic to pour material there to stave off the attacks. "My lord?" Dooku asked, his curiosity winning out over his trepidation.

Sidious waved off the comment, "While under different circumstances it could be a viable target, it's more useful to draw off ships from the surrounding sectors if the Republic believes Corellia to be in danger when in reality it will be a diversion. Duro would be a prime target to exploit this."

"Yes, of course, my lord," Dooku agreed, not that he had all that much choice in the matter. When Sidious said 'jump,' you didn't have time to ask how high, only to react and hope said height pleased the Dark Lord.

"The rest," Sidious continued as if Dooku hadn't responded, "are acceptable. Proceed as planned. I will continue to provide you with Republic fleet movements to maximize the effectiveness of the assaults." Sidious moved to cut the transmission, but paused midway, "When the ruler of Aydrau V returns to his planet, select one of his advisors to take over command of the government. His Illustriousness has outlived his usefulness. You will see to this personally, Count, and contact me after it has been done."

Not having knowledge of Palpatine's meeting, Dooku nodded in ignorance. He did, however, feel uneasy. Sidious was as close to smiling as he had ever genuinely come in the Count's presence and the last time Dooku had seem something close to that, the being in question had suffered extensively. _Poor fool, I wonder how he earned such a fate_, Dooku mused about the ill-fated Caliph. The hologram vanished, leaving Dooku and Grievous behind.

**Providence-class Destroyer, **_**Invisible Hand**_**, Above Yag'Dhul; 21 BBY**

Several weeks following Darth Sidious' approval, the staging was complete. The First fleet of the Confederacy silently drifted about the Givin home world. The Third fleet simultaneously awaited their instructions over Thyferra for the coordinated attack. Techno Union Hardcells would clear the way with Seismic EMP countermines. The Republic had gotten word of Operation Durge's Lance the previous week, though the target list was heavily modified. None of the targets listed were authentic and prominently featured was Corellia.

General Grievous stalked to the command salon of his flagship. He waved a six-clawed hand toward one of the droid pilots and the fleet sent the signal. His time was at hand. After nipping and scrounging on the edges of the Republic, he was finally given permission to eviscerate it. Coruscant may be the heart, but the Core worlds were vital organs. No one cared for the extremities of the Outer Rim and even the Colonies, ostensibly part of the Core were often ignored. But now they couldn't ignore the Confederacy because the carnage would be too close to do anything but acknowledge it.

Once confirmation from Thyferra had been established, the First fleet jumped into hyperspace. A flicker of pseudo-motion launched the mechanical armada towards its destination. In hours, The Republic would realize that there was nothing they could do to stop the Confederacy, nothing they could do the stop Grievous. Their worlds would fall, a domino effect of destruction set off by this first world's plummet. It was the beginning of the end; the end of security for the Core, and the end of the Republic was at hand.

**Author's Note:** I finally got around to writing Chapter 1 and am pretty pleased with it. Not too much to say about this part, except the Palpatine scene. I modeled Juarez off of a couple off-handed comments by Palpatine in a couple of the Clone Wars series books of two separate, unrelated dignitaries. I thought I would be fun to have Sidious have to deal with both at once. That's probably my favorite part of the story thus far.


	3. Shockwave

**Acclamator-class Assasult Ship, **_**Coronet**_**, Above Duro 0220 Local Time; 21 BBY**

Defense blockades were fickle assignments, however necessary the high command deems them to be. Admiral Eeu'la had decades of combat experience, though the majority of it was under the private military of her adopted home world. Once the Republic had decided to create a centralized military, the demand for officers was quite high and many a local militia was stripped of command personnel to feed the Republic war machine. After all, they may have had soldiers in abundance, but it took experienced officers to win battles. It was just as important to have such officers stationed at important hardpoints to save them in the event of an attack, and that was the source of the capricious nature of such missions. A probable assailant determined their own time table, there was little the protectors could do but react.

Duros itself was more of a wasteland than anything else. The water and air were heavily polluted by industry, unregulated for decades by bought governmental agencies. True, they were forced to address the lax enforcement under Chancellor Palpatine, an achievement in itself, but nothing could turn back the tide in only a few years. Because of this, the planet was sparely populated, abandoned to food processing plants that fed the citizens of the orbital cities like Jyvus. Those were not the reason for a Republic defense force, that lay with the much more lucrative and valuable orbital shipyards that pumped out Republic warships on a daily basis to supplant those fed into the fires of war. Not nearly as extensive as Fondor, Kuat, or Corellia, but enough to warrant the protection.

As it was, Eeu'la was nervous. Weeks before, Republic Intelligence had gotten wind of a potential Separatist attack on Corellia. High Command decided that they could redirect ships from surrounding planets to protect Corellia, though in reality they only cared about the Corellian shipyards. Duro, being a close neighbor, had contributed half of its Venator complement to the cause. That alone would have had Eeu'la uneasy, but three days ago she lost her other three Venator Star Destroyers thanks to the Senate Action Subcommittee for Corellian Trade Spine Defense, a long winded name for bloated governmental bureaucracy and meddling. They had, in all the wisdom of Senators who've never served a day in their lives, determined that it was the perfect time to have them perform shakedown cruises through the Trade Spine. Of course, this was all deemed 'need to know' so only the Admiral and her command staff were kept informed of their current locations. The only thing stopping her from making waves was her ability to call all the ships back in an emergency. Sure, it would take some time, but they could hold out long enough, not that anyone in the Confederacy could possibly know of the current vulnerabilities of the Duro Defense Fleet without someone feeding them information on the inside, and who could possibly do that?

* * *

**Chancellor's Office, Coruscant; 21 BBY**

It was not often one could converse civilly with a sworn enemy, but Palpatine did it on a regular basis. Of course, the current level of amicability owed much to the fact that his guest had no inclination of what Palpatine did in the time when he wasn't being Chancellor of the Republic, but working towards its downfall. Still, one couldn't help but appreciate the irony of the situation. Palpatine knew he would look back on moments like this with a certain level nostalgia when he ruled the galaxy.

"Another cup, Master Yoda?" he asked in the gracious guise of the host. Naris-bud tea wasn't the most expensive brew the Chancellor had, but he often tailored his drinking choices to his companions. Naris-bud was one of the more austere selections at the Temple Refectory, but a safer alternative to the sludge the green imp was known to consume, and as draconian as Palpatine's own tastes were, not even he would stoop to subsist on muck if he could help it.

Yoda stoically agreed, though with a noticeably resigned air for those with a _sensitivity_ to such things. It had been a hard week for the aged Grand Master, three Jedi: two knights and one master, had fallen. Even in a galaxy at war, the scant few Jedi losses sent ripples though the vaulted Order. Of course, that was half of the reason Palpatine insisted on these in-person meetings: to gloat. The information could just have easily been exchanged via hologram, but to actually feel the trollish freak in despair was a delicacy to be savored.

"Are you well, Master Yoda? You seem somewhat disheartened," Palpatine asked, the saccharine worry rolled off his tongue outwardly concerned, inwardly mocking the pain of the ancient master. After all, he knew exactly what had the Jedi glum, it just felt so much better to twist the dagger in further by making the Jedi say it in his own words. It was the simple things in life that one had to appreciate.

"Darker, the galaxy has become," Yoda said, sighing slightly, "Fight harder, the light must, when it loses one of its own."

"Of course, we all regret the circumstances and the losses the Jedi have suffered," Palpatine said, _more so that your losses were so pathetically miniscule, if only it had been six, a dozen, more_. Before he could continue his mental tirade, his aide, Sly Moore interrupted.

Her pallor and ostensibly dull clothing clearly marker her as an Umbaran, Sly Moore had been with Palpatine since his Senatorial days. Truth be told, it wasn't serendipity that she came into his service. Sidious always had need of servants with _special_ skills and had no compunction with acquiring them. Young Moore had been flagged early on by the Jedi for training, something divulged to then-Senator Palpatine, a stalwart supporter of the Jedi Order, and personal friends with Masters Dooku and Ronhar Kim. Like many before her, Sidious instructed his apprentice to abduct the prospective Padawan and take her to one of his clandestine stores in the Cron Drift.

The Cron Drift were the scattered remains of the Cron Cluster. An ancient Sith sorceress, Aleema Keto, along with a specially modified Derriphan Battleship, destroyed the entire nebula and left behind naught but a desecrated asteroid field. Since then, the Cron Drift had become so steeped in the Dark Side that it had become as desolate as other Sith strongholds like Korriban or Ziost. Sidious had, though various intermediaries, established an automated colony on one of the larger asteroids. It was here he stored some of the many artifacts that were too conspicuous to be housed elsewhere, lest they draw unwanted attention. In recent years, however, he had begun to establish a network of agents while still apprenticed to his own master, Plagueis. The process was simple enough, potential Jedi candidates were abducted before they could be snatched by the Order and sent to Sidious' storehouse to determine their worth. In the following months, the prisoners would be constantly assaulted by the many artifacts. If they were strong, Palpatine would come and 'rescue' them. Needless to say, there wasn't normally much left by the time Sidious deigned to drop by, but sacrifices must be made for the Grand Plan.

Thus the Umbaran Force sensitive had been forced to endure three months of continual pervasive violations by Sidious' treasures. Her own willpower kept her from the depth of insanity, as so many before her had fallen, though no amount of strength could compensate there being only enough provisions to last two months. Sidious had arrived, quite expecting to find a corpse or, barring that, a mindless animal he would end up slaughtering. Events had conspired to prevent him from visiting his retreat for a month longer than planned. Instead, he found a disheveled and emaciated girl, though still of sound mind. Introducing himself as Palpatine, a Senator from Naboo, Sidious took her from the makeshift tomb and nursed her back to health.

Personally educating the girl in politics, and eventually revealing his Sith alter-ego, Moore became eternally loyal to Sidious, though she never knew it was he that had condemned her to those three months of torment in the Cron Drift. Moore joined other beings like Kinman Doriana, Sate Pestage, and Ars Dangor in Palpatine inner circle of aides and advisors. Upon his election to Chancellor, Sidious supplied Moore with a number of sensitive documents regarding the Senior Administrative Aide under Finis Valorum, Sei Taria. With clear evidence of an affair and other, less savory, actions, Moore blackmailed Taria into retirement and took her place.

Thus, it was her responsibility to bring something like this to her master, both privately and publically, as soon as it had hit the HoloNet. She glided into the antechamber, inclining her head slightly in acknowledgment of the diminutive Jedi Master before turning to Palpatine. "Excellency, we have a HoloNet wide transmission from the Duro system," she said, and upon receiving permission, she activated the suite's central holoprojector.

A small clearing of land sprang to life between the Chancellor and Jedi Grand Master, floating above the inlaid holoprojector at the sunken center of the room. Standing atop the 'island' was the menacing form of the Separatists' General, Grievous.

"So . . . the Republic would have the galaxy believe that its heart is secure," the cyborg grated, gesturing to the surrounding wreckage. Among the scattered debris was, somewhat artfully done, more so than Sidious would have given the General credit for, was a shredded Republic banner and an intact Separatist one. Grievous continued, "Today's events, however, show that there is nothing that can stop our forces from total victory."

Palpatine made a note of Yoda's impassive face as he watched Grievous ramble on. Really, Dooku must teach his pet the art of when to stop grandstanding. A few words here, a cracked clone helmet there, and everyone would be suitably cowed. Instead, the General drew out his monologue for a full three minutes denouncing various Republic 'crimes.' Palpatine wanted to roll his eyes, the Separatists were hardly innocent. Still, he understood the necessity of such drabble. If you repeat it often enough, opinion and conjecture become reality and everyone has to toe the party line.

When the message concluded, he cleared his throat. "This is most distressing, to have Duro fall on our watch. How could this have happened, Master Yoda?" As if the imp, who had received the news as soon as the Chancellor, would be able to come up with any answer.

"Know not, do I, the events that transpired on Duro," Yoda said gravely, setting aside his cup. "To the Temple, I must go, Chancellor."

"Of course, no doubt my military advisors are anxious to alleviate the situation," Palpatine called after the retreating Jedi Master. "Do keep me apprised, Master Yoda."

* * *

**HoloNet News Broadcast Transcript; 21 BBY**

Scandal rocks the corridors of the Senate today after revelations shed new light on the debacle at Duro. A report compiled by SBI Agent Inglemenn Barezz was leaked this afternoon by sources within the Hall of Justice. In it, troubling allegations of corruption within the Senate Action Subcommittee for Corellian Trade Spine Defense. The investigation revealed that three Victory-class Destroyers that were reassigned to so-called "shakedown cruises" weeks before the Separatist invasion were in fact appropriated by Chairman Ronet Coorr to Rodia after Senator Onaconda Farr reported secured building contracts on Ando for the Iseno Senator.

Though the report offers no concrete proof of sedition, many are calling for criminal tribunals for the disgraced Senators involved. Public backlash has taken the form of many calling for the Senate to relinquish their influence over the Grand Army of the Republic over to the Supreme Chancellor. Critics claim that this is an isolated incident, and does not reflect the overall situation. Proponents, such as Senator Ister Paddie, have gone on record:

"While there are many loyal Senators in the Republic, we cannot gamble the freedom of our worlds on such naive promises that, no doubt, ring hollow to our brothers and sisters on Duro. The Supreme Chancellor has done his best to hold us together in these trying times, but he cannot do so if we have lawmakers abusing their oversight ability. I call on the Senate to ensure that such a tragedy as has befallen Duro will never darken another world in the Republic. For the sake of our continued Democracy, we must empower the Chancellor to conduct the war."

End transmission.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I know I've neglected this story for a while, I've actually been working on another project, though I'm not planning on publishing anything until I'm completely finish, lest it end up like this.

As for this story, I've been struggling to keep to the original intent that this be about Operation Durge's Lance, but I inevitably end up showing the political side of it all. With that in mind, I've changed the title and the new focus will be the political aspects of the war. Durge's Lance will still be featured, but more as a backdrop and catalyst for many things.


	4. Aftershock

**Chancellor Office, Coruscant; 20 BBY**

"Ah, Senators, right on time," Supreme Chancellor Palpatine said as he looked up from a number of scattered datapads on his desk.

Bail Prestor Organa, with all his dignity of a dozen years in office, bowed stiffly as he headed the Loyalist Committee's procession into the Chancellor's office. A career politician, Organa was an anomaly in the realm of politics in that he was genuinely respected for his devotion to his duties in office. Though he had taken office shortly after Palpatine's election, the Alderaanian royal quickly gained the ear of the newly elected Chancellor and found himself a central cog in the bureaucracy that he had so often chafed against for its stagnation.

He had been an ardent supporter of Palpatine in the early years, but now he wasn't so sure. There wasn't anything specifically to point to for his shift in feelings, but things seemed to be happening that made Bail uncomfortable about the whole situation. Things like the disappearance of Seti Ashgad mere weeks after his vocal opposition to the installation of cam droids in the Rotunda, but nothing had rattled his confidence in the Chancellor quite as much as his last encounter with Finis Valorum.

The disgraced former Chancellor had shown up at Cantham House, Organa's Coruscant residence one evening a few days before the Senate had passed the Enhanced Security and Enforcement Act. Monumental in scope, it was in response to a terrorist attack on Coruscant weeks previously and gave the executive branch the ability to conduct searches, seizures, and even place surveillance equipment without due process. Valorum had been outraged and decided to pay a visit to the lead opposition to the legislation.

* * *

**Cantham House, Coruscant; 21 BBY**

Valorum paced the plush ante-room, as Organa looked on uneasily. He'd seen Valorum before, but never so rattled, it was strange. Valorum had been a career politician, too, hailing for a family dynasty prestigious enough to have multiple members hold the office of Chancellor. Now, however, he was pale and gangly, thin hair having lost all vestiges of color that had held on through his own scandalous departure from politics. Turning abruptly, Valorum had a wild glint in his eye.

"The Senate barters away fundamental rights upon which the Republic was built!" Valorum spat, "You trust that tyrant you are creating will give them back to you when the crisis is over? Palpatine will give back nothing!"

Organa shifted slightly, "That's pretty incendiary talk, my friend. The Chancellor has always made public his intent to relinquish to powers vested to his office once the Separatist crisis is over."

"No one who seeks power the way he does ever surrenders it willingly . . . Palpatine will make sure that any individual or group that opposes him or is in his way is removed," Valorum said, his voice shrill, "Look what happened to King Veruna, look what happened to me!"

"Now Finis," Organa soothed, getting up and going to the carafe, "My predecessor thoroughly went through that case-"

"I know it was Palpatine that had me framed," Valorum cut him off, "I was forced to resign as Chancellor so that he could ascend to it."

"Along with Antilles and Teem? He hardly had great odds against the two of them. He would have needed to spearhead a conspiracy the likes of which would spawn holodramas to pull it off."

Valorum stared at the off-white floor for a few moments before making for the door. "I have no more proof of that than I do that he masterminded my fall," Valorum turned one last time back to Organa, "If I did have it, Palpatine would be in chains at this moment."

With that, the former Chancellor left Ograna's home, leaving Bail to wonder if he'd ever see the man again.

* * *

**Chancellor's Office, Coruscant; 20 BBY**

Incidentally, it would be the last time Organa would see him. Valorum would die in yet another terrorist days after the meeting. His ship, _Star of Iskin_, was attacked by Separatist assassins utilizing explosives, killing all aboard instantly. To make matters worse, the wreckage crashed into a heavily populated residential district, causing the carnage of thousands there. The fatal voyage resulted in two things: the immediate passage of the Enforcement Act and the construction of the Finis Valorum Memorial. The monument was erected on the Chancellery Walkway of the Jrade District. Palpatine dedicated the site, but only two-hundred people showed up for the unveiling.

Still, nothing about Palpatine personally had changed, though Organa suspected there was some confrontation between Valorum and Palpatine after his own meeting with the disgruntled former Chancellor. But nothing Palpatine did was illegal, nor did it even appear immoral. He was constantly trying to temper his authority by asking for council from the Jedi and the Loyalist Committee, as he was most likely doing today.

"Please be seated," Palpatine said as he rose from his desk and gestured to a recessed seating area in the middle of the room before joining them, "It's with a certain amount of sobriety that I'm forced to convene this august body so shortly after losing two of its prominent members, but the nature of the situation calls for decisive action."

The corpulent Orn Free Taa, always eager to please the Chancellor, was the first to respond, "I'm sure we all understand, Chancellor, the loss of Duro is a grave wound for all who love the Republic."

A slight grimace graced Palpatine's grandfatherly face, "As it so happens, the situation with Duro is precisely the matter that concerns Emergency Amendment 121B, my friends."

Lexi Dio, a slight human female from Uyter, frowned, "'Emergency Amendment 121B' . . . the Reflex Amendment?"

The Chancellor looked slightly stricken at the use of the more common moniker, mainly utilized by those in opposition to it, "I'm afraid so, my dear. I, myself, had been hesitant to put it forth given the scope, but I fear Duro has shown us that something needs to be done."

Padme, a fervent opponent of the bill, was shocked to hear Palpatine advocating for it, "Chancellor, you cannot be serious, that amendment would effectively bypass Senate oversight."

"It's an efficient streamlining of cumbersome bureaucracy," Palpatine corrected, "and, I fear, a necessary one."

Dio scowled, "To what end could you possibly mean, Chancellor? The Senate must have authority in the Republic."

"I'm not saying it won't, Senator, but there are times where there needs to be action."

"Unilateral action-"

"Decisive action, the kind that was prevented when the Separatists attacked Duro." Palpatine said firmly, "Look at the damage Senators Coorr and Farr did, if that Senate Subcommittee hadn't the ability to order ship movements, we very well may not have lost a Republic world."

Dio was clearly unmoved. Glancing to Mon Mothma and Fang Zar, both of whom supported her in spirit, if not in words, she continued. "While I do not mean to besmirch the efficacy of our military, I fail to see how three Star Destroyers could have turned the tide."

The Chancellor nodded judiciously, spreading his arms. "That may very well be the case, but what if a situation were to arise where it was? Moreover, what if next time it is not a simple case of corruption, but actual treason?"

Organa finally decided to intervene, it looked too much like the majority of the committee agreed with the Chancellor, and though Bail hadn't fully decided how he felt about Palpatine at this point, this was clearly the wrong path to take. "What of the Security Act? In cases of actual treason, wouldn't that enable us to head off a concerted effort to hamper our military?"

"I'm certain it would given time, but we don't always have the luxury to wait for our enemies to miscalculate," Palpatine gestured to Dio, "The Senator from Uyter brought up its alternate moniker, and it is perhaps more apt than she would believed. There are times when we must react to a situation. We try to anticipate all we can, but cannot rely on that alone."

Ister Paddie, a staunch Palpatine-loyalist, spoke up, "We cannot allow another crisis like Duro to occur under our watch when we could have prevented it."

"Yet our own intelligence indicates that this was merely a coincidence, that the corruption that deprived those Destroyers was an isolated case." Giddean Danu asked, "Should we legislate based on hypothetical situation? Can we?"

"Yet it could have happened," Palpatine said as he stood, "You said it was coincidence, but how do we know that? True, the Senators at fault were not working for the Separatists, but perhaps a staff member was. When the Senate does anything there is a considerable number of people who have access to those records, given the right security levels, who knows what they may reveal to our enemies?"

"That would be quite a conspiracy, Chancellor," Silya Shessaun, Senator from Thesme, said.

"I don't mean to imply that we have, amongst us here, someone who pretends to be someone they are not simply for the chance to spirit secrets away to the Separatists. That would be farfetched for our most base holodramas," Palpatine chuckled quietly before taking on a more somber tone. "We do, however, have a responsibility to our constituent planets to protect them. I cannot in good conscience fail to do all I can to protect them."

The Chancellor folded his arms behind his back and strode to the floor-to-ceiling transparasteel window that bathed the room in white light, casting him in a silhouette. The Senators took it as an indication to rise.

"Please consider the Amendment, it will be brought to the floor in three days," Palpatine said, still turned away from the Loyalist Committee.

Organa was just about to leave with the others as Lexi Dio spoke up. "I am sorry, Chancellor, but I need no time to consider legislation that will take us an authoritarian step away from democracy. We cannot lose that what makes us who we are in an attempt to save ourselves from hypothetical threats to us. If we pass this bill, the Separatists will not need to land a single droid on Coruscant to destroy our democracy, we will have done it ourselves in the name of stopping them."

Organa was genuinely curious as to how the Chancellor would respond, his was never a confrontational demeanor. Palpatine turned slowly to the Senators, seemingly frozen in place at Dio's outspoken speech, all but denouncing the Chancellor himself. A sad smile curved slightly at the corners of his mouth and his ice blue eyes seem iridescent with the rest of him so shadowed by the blinding silver of the Coruscant cityscape. For the first time since meeting the Chancellor, Organa felt a slight chill as he noticed the eyes seemed to have an almost electric glow to them, like sparkling sapphires at the bottom of an ancient well.

"We all must do what we feel is right, Senator Dio, and, for better or worse, we must accept the consequences for our decisions."

* * *

**HoloNet News Broadcast Transcript; 20 BBY**

Tragedy strikes Coruscant today at the sudden and unexpected death of Senator Lexi Dio of Uyter. Security Forces are reluctant to comment, but inside sources have hinted that Dio was assassinated by Separatist sleeper agents. She is survived by her husband and three children. Reports are unconfirmed, but Malé-Dee has been put forth as a potential replacement as Uyter's Senate position. He has, as of yet, been unable to be reached for comment.

In other news, the Senate is preparing to debate Emergency Amendment 121b, commonly known as the 'Reflex Amendment.' Analysts have predicted it will pass with a clear majority. When asked for comment, the Chancellor's Office released the following statement:

"The Chancellor is saddened by the apparent need of this kind of legislation, but understands the intent entailed. Publically, the Chancellor will neither endorse nor denounce this bill, but trusts that the Senate will do only what is in the best interests of the Republic. If it is their decision that this Amendment be passed, the Chancellor will, as always, seek the wisdom and council of the Jedi Order and Military High Command on the necessity of implementation, should a situation arise in which the powers delegated need to be utilized."

Opponents of the bill claim it will allow the Chancellor to interfere with local planetary and sector governments, but proponents counter that such interpretations are outlandish and unfounded.

End transmission.


	5. Figureheads

**Chancellor Office, Coruscant; 20 BBY**

" . . . To conclude, I feel it imperative to reiterate that the events on Duro, while troubling on a galactic scale, offer no immediate threat to Coruscant or its sibling worlds." Armand Isard's cerulean eyes flashed in cold conviction. "Core World security is at the highest levels since the start of the war. With the recent passage of Emergency Amendment 121b, I have every confidence that we will turn back the tide of Separatist attacks. Thank you."

Stiffly turning to leave, Isard could hear the uproar of questions following him. What did these reporters expect? It's not like he could very well say anything else, even if it wasn't true. Isard was in charge of two of the most potent Intelligence operations in the galaxy. He was the first being in Republic history to hold both the position of Director-General of the Senate Bureau of Intelligence and Directorship of Republic Intelligence. He was a quiet man, reserved, but knew just how unsafe Coruscant really was.

To be far, it wasn't something that could very well have been prevented. By its nature, Coruscant was a melting pot of the denizens of the galaxy. Everyone dreamed of coming here to find a life of comfort and riches, though most ended up discovering the wonders of poverty and squalor. With such a variety of sentient beings, any Intelligence organization would be strained in even peace times.

No, the problem was much simpler, and far more complicated. What Isard needed was authority, authority to track and watch everything that happened on Coruscant. Every transaction, every skycar ride, everything. Nothing of importance can be done without interacting with the grid, without buying food, or transporting supplies and personnel. With that kind of authorization, Isard could make the jewel of the galaxy as safe as their propaganda claimed. The problem lay in civil rights. Bleeding heart politicians and political action groups clamoring against steps _necessary_ to secure peace.

Isard rounded the corner in the Senate Rotunda and headed straight to his office. He passed many of the very politicians like Organa and Mothma that hindered him and the galaxy with their anachronistic ideals. Still, he had heart that all was not lost. While the Senate was a hopeless cesspool of naiveté, he had an ally in the Chancellor. Isard had known Palpatine from his time as Senator of Naboo and the Chommell Sector. Even then, the future Chancellor understood the need for delicate handing of situations. He may talk like Organa and Mothma, but Isard knew Palpatine had a more practical heart, and it was that which would save the Republic from chaos and anarchy.

Pressing his palm to the security pad, he slipped into his private office to find it already occupied. The first person wasn't a surprised, his daughter, Ysanne, often visited him. He had high hopes of her future career in Intelligence, even at her current ten standard years. It was the second individual that was a surprise. Sitting in one of his guest chairs, was the Supreme Chancellor in rapt attention as Ysanne was telling him of her last time with her father in the field.

"And we found them hiding in the water station," Ysanne concluded proudly.

The Chancellor gave an indulgent smile and laid a bony hand on her shoulder. "That was very brave of you and your father, my dear."

As Palpatine had yet to acknowledge his entrance, Isard gave a small nod. "Chancellor."

"Ah Armand, I'm glad you're here. Your lovely daughter was regaling me with some of your past exploits while I waited. I was hoping to speak with you."

Now standing, the Chancellor towered over the ten-year-old, shielding her from the picture window, casting her in shadow. Isard wasn't a man who put much stock in feelings, but something within seemed to be pulling, with no avail, at his heart. "Of course, Chancellor. Ysanne, leave us."

The young girl turned her heterochromatic eyes on the Chancellor, as if asking permission to stay, permission to defy her father. Another pull, another repression.

Palpatine flashed another smile and gently ushered her toward to door. "Go on, child, I'm sure we'll be able to catch up later."

Resigned, Ysanne left, off to wander around the offices of the SBI until her father's meeting was over. The door closed, and Palptaine's smile remained frozen on his face. Physically, it was the same, but there was no longer any emotional warmth beneath. Isard respected the Chancellor for his ability to hold the Republic together and make the hard choices any leader must, but there were times when Palpatine's demeanor gave him pause. There were times when Isard thought he saw something dark prowling around behind the Chancellor's icy eyes, when there was something undeniably off about the Republic's Chancellor.

"Where were we? Ah yes, this dreadful business with Duro." Just like that, it was gone. Isard felt himself wonder if he had ever seen anything to begin with. "Despite your assurances to the public at large, I think it would be prudent to make a gesture that would galvanize the people behind our defense force."

Isard noticed that little tick of Palpatine's, his tendency to sheathe orders in requests, as if obeying them was a choice, that you wanted to follow, instead of it being a command. Still, he had long since grown accustomed to the Chancellor's style of leadership. Perhaps not as iron-clad as Isard used with his subordinates, but there was durasteel lying underneath those ample robes. He inclined his head to the right. "A figurehead appointment, perhaps?" Though some thought him handsome, Isard was more mentally proficient than anything else.

"You make it sound so manipulative, my friend," Palpatine hummed. "I'd like to think of it as rewarding the courageous."

"Then you have someone in mind?"

"Would I bring it up, if I did not?" Palpatine slid a data card across the slate-grey desktop towards Isard. "Terrinald Screed."

Isard frowned in thought. "An early proponent of the Military Creation Act, if I recall, and a Captain in the Navy."

Nodding judiciously, Palpatine raised a slender finger. "And recently awarded the Holt Cross, along with a Captain Dodonna. The latter is already on his way to Rendili with Master Koon, but Captain Screed was injured on his last mission," Palpatine slowly walked around the spares room as he continued to talk. "What better way to recuperate than to take command of the Home Fleet as Vice Admiral?"

"That's generous of you, Chancellor."

"The people love their heroes," Palpatine shrugged.

_Now who is being manipulative?_ Isard thought, but never dared give voice to his words. Not that he had a problem with it, just that it seemed no politician was immune from semantics, even the Chancellor. "I will so inform the Vice Admiral, then."

"Do that, Armand," the Chancellor moved to leave, but paused at the threshold. "Oh, and bring your daughter to the next Advisory Council meeting. I think it would be a practical experience for her. I can see you in her, my friend, she will go far."

"As you wish, Chancellor."

Palpatine turned and was gone, the temperature seemingly growing warmer now. Isard thought more on the Chancellor's parting words. His response has been immediate, but now he gave pause to the implication. Another pull, this time harder. Isard mentally shook his head to rid himself of the unknown feeling. In fact, Palpatine was quite right, the more she is exposed to, the more drive she will have to be the best.

* * *

**HoloNet News Broadcast Transcript; 20 BBY**

The appointment of Vice Admiral Screed to stewardship of the Coruscant Home Fleet was met with a chorus of approval earlier today when the Chancellor's office announced the war hero would be taking command of the prestigious flotilla. A staunch loyalist, Screed received the Holt Cross for his heroic actions over Anaxes. A more comprehensive biography is set to air later today.

In other news, recent planetary defections, led by leaders accused of corruption, have prompted many to call for an installation of governors over worlds thought to be in danger of succession. With the recent liberation of Onderon by its people, many have called for the Republic to step in and ensure that planetary leaders are unable to disenfranchise their people with similar unilateral action. The unanimity of such demands is in question, however, as a handful of senators have cautioned against such action. When asked for comment, Chandrila Senator, Mon Mothma said this:

"I understand the desire to protect the people, but I fear this kind of action would do more harm than good. If we continually look to military solutions to our problems, we will cease to be the democracy we are fighting to protect."

When reached for comment, the Chancellor's office declined to take a position on the issue, Vice Chair Amedda would only say that:

"The Chancellor is, of course, sympathetic to both positions. At this point in time, however, such a decision must go through the Senate and not the executive branch. If the Senate deems this a necessary step to maintaining security, then they must make the decision."

* * *

**Author's Note:** When did this become a series of political one-shots?


End file.
